


Chance Be a Fine Thing

by darkenpieta



Category: Unforgotten (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28885122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkenpieta/pseuds/darkenpieta
Summary: This is my version of the pre-series relationship between Chris Lowe and Jamila.I love these two characters and their relationship in the show and they have so much potential as characters that I'd thought I'd explore.
Relationships: Chris Lowe (Unforgotten)/Jamila (Unforgotten)





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about what's it's like to be a refugee.

Jamila did not know whether to describe herself as lucky or not. Was it lucky that she survived a explosion that killed her husband in front her and her young son. In that explosion she lost her home and her heart. Was it lucky that she managed to survive living in a tent, in a warzone where the temperatures would drop below freezing at night and she wouldn't eat so that her child could stay strong. Is she lucky because she survived on the boat that took her to the UK after she was rejected from France and Germany. 

She feels like she hasn't breathed since her husband was killed. She been on autopilot, survival mode for 2 years, doing everything she can so that her son may have a life. 2 years of moving in and out of temporary accommodation, waiting for an answer about her asylum application. All of it has led to this moment.

"Jamila Bashir, you and your son have been granted asylum."

On this day, she finally cries. She's safe, her son is safe. On that day she does feel lucky.

"Do you have any family in the UK that you can stay with?" Ask the immigration officer.

"No."

"In that case you'll be given temporary housing and a living allowance until you are able to find a job. I'm afraid you cannot choose where to live."

"So long as its in the UK." Jamila says with a smile. She hasn't wanted to joke in years.

"Yes you are in the UK." Jamila frowns. "There is a council flat in Bristol available. Someone will give you the keys and you should be able to sort your own train tickets."

"Thank you."

"Welcome to the UK."

She wants to say "I've been here two years" but decides against it, in case he suddenly revokes her status on the base of a lame joke.

Outside, sitting on a chair patiently waiting for her, is Asif. As soon as she comes out, he comes bounding up to her.

"What did he say?"

"Yes." She replies before crying again and kissing her son. "Come on let's go to our new home."

The train from London to Bristol felt longer than the 3000 miles from Syria to the UK. She was so close to being settled again, to have a home again that she was getting impatient. All her emotions had come flooding back and with them excitement. Asif was feeling much the same. He hadn't seen the countryside in the two years they'd been in temporary housing in London. He had his face up against the window, pointing out to his mother everything that came past. She found the countryside to be beautiful even on this slightly drizzly day. What really took her breath away was when they saw a huge suspension bridge looked like a postcard. 

"Wow!" Said Asif.

"That's Clifton suspension bridge." Said a bemused passenger. "We're arriving in Bristol."

"Amazing." Said Jamila.


	2. Chance Meeting

Jamila had never thought past getting to the UK. Now that she's here, what now?

There were obvious things, of course, she managed to get Asif into a nearby school. She was glad and thankful that education was free to all children, although the head teacher she spoke to warned here that,

"The children may not be kind to someone who is...different."

Children inherit their parents prejudices and she hoped for Asif's and her own sake that the people of Bristol had no prejudices towards refugees. 

The other important thing on the agenda was to find a job. In Syria, Jamila was a nurse in a local hospital, she loved her job. It brought her so much joy to help those in need. She knew however that she was unlikely to get a nursing job wherever she ended up. Different language and different qualifications needed are both major boundaries that she would have to tackle. She supposed that should be what she could focus on now that she's here, but she feels disheartened that she has to train for a job she has been doing for the last ten years. Her immediate concern, however, was to get a salary for hers and Asif's sake. Fortunately, she managed to get a cleaning job with a nearby company. As a nurse, she is highly adept at cleaning, furthermore the job required little to no English speaking and she could do it when Asif was at school. It suited her needs perfectly despite the fact it pales in comparison to the joys of nursing.

She had not much to compare to but she thought Bristol was a very nice city and was glad she was sent here. It's not too big as to feel lonely and not so small that amenities are easily gained. However, now that the season was turning to Autumn, she was experiencing the weather the UK was famous for and she did not like it. Sure sometimes her home country could be too hot in the summer but the UK on the other hand is cold and wet. She dreads to think how she will cope in Winter.

Perhaps it's the weather or because people can tell she is not English but Jamila thinks that the people here are cold too. The people she has spoken too so far have been teachers and immigration officers, all of whom have been polite and kind but day to day she doesn't speak to anyone and she notices that they don't speak to each other. In Syria, it is perfectly normal to strike up a full conversation with a stranger. She's worried to try the same especially as her English is not fluent yet. Jamila had been told many times that her English is very good, but even a wrong word or tone could make her intentions be misconstrued and that's a lot of pressure. Thankfully Asif has acclimatised better. His young mind has learnt English fluently in a short space of time and the children were very excited to have a student in their class from a faraway land.

She still speaks to other parents on Asif's class when she's there but nothing more than polite chit chat. She's also aware that the parents have their own friendships built over many years and Asif has joined the primary school halfway through the final year. As a result, however, four months into her stay in the UK she has made no friends. She's never had many friends, as a naturally introverted person, she likes to keep herself to herself but she would love to speak to someone about anything. This thought was heavily weighing on her mind when she was having a meeting with a woman from a local refugee charity who came to see them.

"How are you settling into the UK?"

"Very well thank you. I am very grateful for everything."

"Are you acclimatising? Have you made any friends?"

"Not really. But I'm just glad to be here."

"The reason I ask this is because I don't know if you're aware but there is a refugee centre here in Bristol which you can go to."

"Oh, I've not heard about it."

"Yeah those guys in London are not very helpful, they send you here and let you fend for yourself until we contact you. It's usually an arts centre but on certain days and times, it's used just for refugees. Here's the leaflet. They have English lessons and classes to help you find a job or whatever you need. It's also a good way to meet other refugees."

"That sounds wonderful, thank you."

Jamila was glad that there was such a place for refugees like her. Her and Asif's long period of isolation may be over. She was surprised to see that the centre was actually open every day but at different times depending on the day. Most of the times were when Asif was at school which was good because it meant she could check out the place first before bringing him.

The next morning, after dropping Asif off at school, Jamila went straight to the refugee centre feeling full of anticipation. As she walked closer however she began to feel doubts creeping up on her. Doubts she did not foresee before when she was so excited to have a place to go. What if I don't make a good impression? This is the only place I can go and if they don't like me I'll not find anywhere else. Maybe this centre is for people who need more help than me, after all I'm just feeling lonely, I don't need real help. As similar thoughts swirled round her head, she was unaware that she already reached the centre and was pacing near the entrance. Everytime she plucked up the courage to go inside, at the last moment, she walks straight past the entrance before doubling back and doing the same. Eventually she realised looked ridiculous and decided to go home. Maybe next time she thought. Just as she made her decision to leave she heard a man's voice.

"Hi can I help you?" Asked the voice.

Jamila looked around to figure out who the voice was addressing and she found no one but the source of the voice. Outside the entrance of the centre stood a tall, hairy man looking directly at her with a gentle smile. While the scruffiness and long length of his hair and beard suggested that he was homeless, however his clothes were clean and expensive looking. Having been caught looking like a fool, Jamila blushed and urgently felt the need to escape.

"Yes. I. No. I don't why I came here. I was just leaving."

The man pressed on. His voice and actions were of a man trying not to scare a frightened animal.

"Are you from Syria?" He asked

"Yes." She answered instinctively. She paused. "I-how did you know?"

"A lot of my friends are Syrian, would you like to meet them?" He answered and pointed towards the building.

"Oh I I'm." She wasn't sure what to do now. Torn by her need to go home and wanting to be brave.

"I'm sure they would like to meet you." He added lightly.

She thought about it for another moment before replying.

"Um maybe next time sorry."

Coward.

"If you change your mind." The man said jovially.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback would be appreciated :)


End file.
